Coming Home
by Amy Renee
Summary: Previously titled 'Falling Warriors.' Tired and with nowhere left to run, two hunters prepare to make their last stand.


_I'm not generally a fan of tragedy fics, but felt compelled enough to give this a shot._

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural._

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_Fire raining from the sky_  
_See the face of fear asking one last time_  
_Let me get home safe_  
_Before it's too late_

_Alter Bridge: One By One_

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Coming Home

The war had been unlike anything they had imagined. It had happened fast. There had been so much evil, so much death, and so much destruction. They had underestimated its enormity. They had been unprepared. Hunters had joined forces, created battlefronts, but they couldn't protect everyone. Some battles were won, but in the end, they couldn't save the world.

The attacks had struck all at once, globally. Towns had been wiped out. Cities had crumbled, their burned remains resembling charred skeletons. The world took on a dark overtone. It had become a battlefield for good versus evil, where fierce and horrific battles had raged for peoples' very souls. The screams and the roar of flames had been deafening.

But now it was silent, anguished in defeat against an insurmountable enemy. There were no more blue skies, and on days that you thought just maybe you could see the dim rays of the sun, the light never quite showed through the thick dismal atmosphere that hung over this Hell on Earth. The air was stale and a blanket of ash covered what used to be the world we knew.

Two hunters had seen it all. They watched their friends and comrades of old and new die. Innocent people - non-hunters - hadn't even stood a chance. For them it hadn't been a war. It had been an eradication.

However there were a handful of other people that had been stronger than most. These people became hunters of this "new age," given no other choice if they wanted to survive. The two hunters had sometimes run into groups of people who had banded together after the initial chaos. They were like fish in a barrel. After a while those run-ins occurred less and less, anyone that was left choosing to avoid one another, unable and unwilling to trust each other.

The benevolence of humanity had died long ago.

The two men had watched everyone else fall, until they were all that was left. Somehow they were still alive, still fighting an already lost war and admitting what had probably always been a hopeless effort. They had seen the grotesqueness of the evil that flooded the Earth and undoubtedly been affected by it. They had been forced to make terrible choices that went against their nature, things they never would have imagined they had it in them to do. Each man had been forced to become hardened against such things for his own sanity. It had been necessary for the survival of each other and for what was left of what was good and righteous, even if it became nothing but a memory, even if sometimes the side of the line they stood behind blurred with the other and left them wondering if they stood for anything better than the evil they fought.

Ergo they had faced many demons, both out on the battlefield and within themselves. Some had even been with each other. Somehow in the end it had only strengthened their consanguinity, because they had each other; they had never been in it alone. They wouldn't have made it if not for each other.

Each man had his share of scars, inside and out. They were a testament to a fierce and inconceivable struggle undergone for too many years. Each man's face was weary. The scars and the emotional wear and hardness of their features made them look beyond their years and was yet another testament to this long battle that would soon be over for them - and they were almost grateful for it.

Today was the day. They both knew it. Silent words were all that passed between them, which had always been all that was needed. They were tired. They had nothing left to give, nowhere left to run or hide. Their time was over. It was time for them to finally rest. They would go down swinging and take as many as they could with them, because they were hunters, but more than that, they were Winchesters.

They stood side by side, as they always had, in the sad remnants of what was once a beautiful valley overlooked by pristine mountains. Now the mighty forms were corroded and oppressed. They had been forced to relinquish their elegance in the ugliness that had descended upon them, having bore witness to too much horror to ever be pure again, much like that of the two hunters that now stood silently in their shadow.

A slight breeze blows through the valley, rustling the dry withered grass, making the air and the quietness a little more bearable. Both men stand silently, checking over their weapons. One is an old sawed-off shotgun that looks like it has seen better days, just as its owner. It's not much against what is coming, but it's all they will need. The men look out at the vastness as they chamber the last of their reserves.

They seem lost in their own thoughts, perhaps attempting to make peace with themselves and what is to come.

The younger of the two looks at the other for a moment before speaking: "What do you think will become of us?" he asks suddenly but carefully. The older man looks up. The other's eyes seem vulnerable, as if he might be scared and looking to him for some kind of assurance or comfort. It makes the older man's heart flutter with something familiar but he pushes it aside, maintaing his composure.

"Probably nothing" he answers evenly. The younger man nods solemnly, looking away. He watches him a moment before adding: "Maybe we'll go home." The younger man turns his gaze back to him and his posture straightens a little and he _almost_ smiles. Silence falls over them again.

"Won't be long now" the young man states looking out across the valley. He thinks he may have heard their screams in the distance.

"We fought hard" the older man affirms. "Just one more fight." His voice fades, almost sounding relieved as the other hunter looks at him and nods, sadly but firmly.

"And we'll go together" and it is the elder man's turn to nod, and he does so with a very slight and morbid smile that quickly straightens. "Like it should be. Like we promised." They look away.

"Dean" the younger man declares after a moment.

The older man looks up to meet the other man's eyes. There is a brief silence as something passes between them.

"I love you." His voice is firm, unwavering, and amorous.

In that moment the younger man's eyes express a glimmer that the other man hasn't seen in a long time. The older man sees complete love and trust in his eyes, an attestation to an unbreakable bond of blood and brotherhood that has made itself bright and evident again through a likewise calloused exterior. In these final moments, the younger man was offering his well known but lifelong unspoken feelings, not wanting to go into the unknown without ever having said them aloud.

They haven't been able to afford the luxury of emotion in a while, but it touches the older man deeply, and he feels his own hardheartedness being tempted to give way for the first time in a long time as anomalous tears beg to well in his eyes. He is reminded of better days, of the one who would look up to him and seek comfort in him, the one he had loved fiercely since childhood and would do anything to protect; the one standing right in front of him:

His little brother.

He reaches out and takes the younger man's shirt in his fist, pulling him into him. His younger brother unhesitatingly and fully returns the embrace.

"I love you too, Sam." He says it with conviction in a scarce soft tone. These emotions, the wetness in his eyes, those three words on his tongue are foreign to him, but they couldn't be more honest and real. This is what they had fought for.

For a moment they are the men they used to be in what seems like a lifetime ago, and they hold on to each other as tight as they can. They are brothers, connected not only by blood but by something much more. They had fought together their whole lives and today they would fall, but they would fall _together._

In life so shall it be in death. And they were ready for whatever was to come, because no matter what became of them, of their memory, of their souls, they were already home.

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_Every shooting star_  
_They all fall so hard_  
_They all fade like a played out song_  
_Now is the time_  
_Before all is lost_  
_I'm coming home_

_Alter Bridge: Coming Home_


End file.
